6 more posts in this thread. [Missing image file: 1360887598486.png]
Every time I tell spooky story, tears start pouring from my eyes.
It doesn't matter whether It's something I peronally experienced, something I've heard, or totaly made up bullshit.
Every Single Time
I'm not willingly crying, but the tears just wont stop.
As you can imagine, this is enough to bring my potential live audience into the state of wide-eyed terror, regardless of the actual quality of the story, but, to tell the truth, it's freaking the shit out of me.
Anyone else having this thing happening to him?
Dreams of the dead
8 more posts in this thread. [Missing image file: 738270_2664121979495_1624790907_o.jpg]
My grandfather recently died, /x/, Now that I think about it, perhaps it has been about a year since he passed. He was a good man, and saved my family from living on the streets many times. A few nights ago, I had a dream about him. It went down like this...
>standing on the side of the road with mother and father
>pitch black outside
>Is a young child
>Feeling of imminent danger
>scared shitless, whatever "it" is, it is getting closer
>Mother starts screaming in terror
>Grandfather's pick up truck pulls up out of nowhere
He died driving this pickup truck.
>We get in the back seat
>I start crying, feeling of danger disappears
>"I love ya' boy. Take good care of your momma. Stay strong, I miss you up here."
>we drive away
>I wake up crying my eyes out.
I've also had a dream about my uncle, will post if anyone cares about it. Does anyone else have contact to the dead through their dreams? Is this psychosomatic or is there a deeper meaning?
0 more posts in this thread. [Missing image file: Templeofrosycross.png]
Inexperienced occultist and parapsychology nut here looking for anyone who can recount a story of their first hand experience with the supernatural.
Ghosts, Sight, Aliens, Demonology, and especially Magic, please share anything beyond the bounds of conventional belief.
I'll ask questions to clarify vagueness.
37 more posts in this thread. [Missing image file: 56926_BAWWW.jpg]
/x/, do you fear dying? Are you afraid of eventually getting old and basically waiting for your turn to leave the world?
Honestly, I'm very afraid, to the point that I'm actually searching for a psychologist to help me because I can't help but think about it every day. It's just hard to imagine what would happen when you're dead, yet it's so natural.
People say it's like a lucid dream; you basically separate from your body and see it laying there, with you not in it, then you'll be entering a tunnel with a white light at the very end of it. When you're inside you'll see your relatives who have deceased before you.
They say it's peaceful -- according to those with an NDE (near death experience)
As much as I'm trying to believe all this, it's hard. I wish there was a God who can tell me what it's like, or a ghost who have seen it all. I know we're supposed to live in the moment and not live in fear with the thoughts of that you might die in 50 years (at this point), but what can I do about it? Life feels like it goes at a rapid pace; at one point you're 19 (like I am) and the next morning you're panicking because you're turning 30.
Honestly, I've yet found someone who can convince me that life isn't going fast.
43 more posts in this thread. [Missing image file: image.jpg]
/x/ I'm in some pretty deep shit. As in I am unsure whether or not this thread will go through or not. I have no idea whether or not they will track this but I know something's going down in the next few hours.
Okay, here's the thing. A couple weeks back my brother and I went camping in California, it was right around the end of both of our Christmas breaks for college, and we decided to do what our dad never took us to do, all the man shit Thoreau and Hemingway wrote about, hiking, fishing, living by the stars and shit. We were having a pretty good time. Until we came across a strange campground, wherein we found a giant owl statue, and a stone slab in front of it covered in burn marks, and what looked to be years old blood stains. I took some pictures before we left, but by the time we got back to our cabin and checked my camera they were gone. I thought it was odd, but probably just a faulty memory card.
Time passes and I forget about the campground, until my brother calls me to tell me that he thinks he's being watched.
I was worried for him. Not because of the immediate threat, but because our dad had a severe paranoia disorder, and there was a possiblity that we had inherited it. I asked him to calm down, but then he told me about this thing called the bohemian club.